Blue as the Sky
by Yoru no Tsuyu
Summary: Sasuke was someone that didn't believe in love. Until the day he mets him. Can that encounter change that? SasuNaru, One-Shot, AU


**A.N.:**Tee hee . sheepish smile . Hello. I'm here with a new ficcie—a one shot AU to be more exact—and also, my first. Nya…I know I'm _supposed_ to be working on my other ficcie—but it's just that once this plot was born, it wouldn't leave me alone! . whines . So, yeah… now you're stuck with reading this. XP

Anyways… this was born an early morning 4:00 a.m. when I couldn't sleep—so, if you don't likey, (or hate it) blame it on my lack of sleep on my brain. But, if you do likey—you can say it was due to a random genius's awakening on a fateful early morning—whatever suits you it's fine, really. I'm not picky. XP

**Disclaimer**: . chants . Tsuyu-chan doesn't own it. Tsuyu-chan doesn't owns it. Tsuyu-chan doesn't own it. . whining, all teary-eyed mode . Why can't Tsuyu-chan own it? Those stingy evil bastards… T.T

**Pairings**: SasuSaku, SasuNaru

**Rating**: M—Just to be on the safe side

**Warning**: Crude language, cursing…boys on boys theme? Oh, if you don't like at least shounen-ai, or if it makes you uncomfortable, then I invite you to leave. Flames to this cause will be promptly redirected. 

So…now onto the fic!

**Note**: Un-betaed. 

**Note 2**: Revised version—sorry, minna san for all the mistakes. . sheepish smile .

* * *

It wasn't like he needed her, nor anyone. Not at all. It was a thing—a thing of mutual agreement; done rationally. And at the end, at the moment, it just seemed the most rational thing left to do—the next step.

They had knew each other since they were both toddlers, and really—both their parents wouldn't have otherwise. You see—it was 'predestined' for the two of them to be together—it was the most natural thing. That was the explanation given, that was all the explanation that was needed—and nothing else mattered. And, after all, this union—marriage—was convenient for both families—both companies.

Sasuke had told himself that all the time—and wouldn't really question it—until the day he met him.

* * *

.: **Blue as the Sky** :.

_**A SasuNaru Fan-Fiction**_

_**By**__** Yoru no Tsuyu**_

* * *

Uchiha Sasuke was, and always had been, a very pragmatic man. Therefore, marriage was, for him, very much like a business deal. And why not? There was a contract involved, along with two parties willing to fulfill it to both of their benefits. He hadn't had any single objection as to why reject doing it.

It _did_ benefit _him_, after all. 

And so, he married her—Haruno Sakura. Before his 'dear' brother went mumbo-jumbo himself and decided that killing his almost entire family might be actually _fun_ (which Sasuke lived to tell the tale, although that hadn't happened for lack of attempt on Itachi's part—Sasuke hadn't exactly been willing—he wanted to live, and the game was not all that much _fun_, anymore) his family had already 'betrothed' him to the now woman. They thought it would be nice having both friendly families ties secured in a more formal and secure way, finally made a family by legal bounds, ensuring that both families' relationships continued as friendly as they were.

Oh, and off the record, Itachi for all his attempt at _fun_, lay now fifteen feet under earth.

—he found it really nice what the 'self-defense' claim-thingy could do—

Now, back on track, Sasuke knew her—Sakura—since they were toddlers, as said before; and even her first crush was _him_, actually—which, now that he thought about it, found it completely annoying, and some way along the lines of revolting as well. He liked her better when she learnt how to keep her distance—which she seemed to do the couple of subsequent years later. 

They married soon, too—barely even seventeen, having just finished high school—this was what tended to happen when your crazy brother decided to wipe out your entire family—leaving you with unfinished deals business made, along with some debts from some just recent investments that had yet to show results—you had to somehow ground the business, along with the (barely now held) prestige of the family name. 

The Haruno family was more than happy to comply.

And so, they married.

And really, it was all bearable, it was all acceptable; he could do it as the last heir to his family, _as long as_ she kept her distance—and even sex was put off, unless he initiated it. 

Which, it wasn't very often.

Did she love him? Maybe. He wasn't sure—she stopped saying him things of the sort altogether since they were fifteen, almost sixteen (which he found he was relieved of), and nowadays they had a very working, very rational relationship. Now, did _he_ love her? That was absolutely out of the question—he found love to be a burden—and he didn't consider himself stupid, nor weak.

That was the life, all the life he knew of—and it was bearable—he knew exactly what would happen, how it would, being able to calculate it—because it was predictable—and he wouldn't have any less, any other way. Also, adultery never really crossed his mind—he deemed it unnecessary, and troublesome, as well—as his Strategy and Law Advisor would always say. 

That was why, when he woke up that morning, he wondered how the heck he allowed things like that to happen. For when he woke up, he was _not_ alone—something weird, since Sakura and him had separate rooms, and he didn't remember letting her in last night—and very much _naked_, finding a mop of blond hair resting on his pillow. And, which was worse, just to top it off—blond hair that belonged to a very _male_ person (he very much confirmed his dreary suspicions after lifting up the covers below the waist, just to make sure).

Oh _shit_.

What the heck had he gotten himself into?

* * *

It all started a couple of months ago, more or less. 

He remembered waking up early for work, as per usual, finding Sakura's naked frame already rising up from his bed, silently, save for the simply 'good morning' greeting. He had just had sex with her the night before. 

When he arrived to the dinning table, fresh from the shower and black pristine suit already put on, he found breakfast already set, newspaper next to it, on the table. 

He could hear the shower running as a background.

When he finished his breakfast, she had yet to leave the bathroom, which he absentmindedly thought was odd for her to spend that much time in just one shower—so he left, not bothering to give her a word. 

This was just how they worked together—how _he_ worked. He didn't particularly care if this wasn't to be called the "average marriage"—it fulfilled its mission good enough, anyways—a cover-up, more than anything else. 

On his way to his company's building's entrance—his truly very pristine black, very expensive suit was soiled by one very hot coffee from one very sloppy _and_stupid person—a very stupid person who just seemed to own the most magnificent set of the bluest eyes he had ever seen—before snapping,

"Hey, watch it where you are going." And then, he just added, because it seemed fitting well enough, somehow in the most irrational of ways, "_Dobe_."

Really, that did the deal— 

—in pissing the other off, just as the other was in the middle of his very sheepish yet sincere apologize, nervous tan hand rubbing anxiously the back of his neck—

—_was he even Japanese?—_

"…eady said I was sorry, bastard! I even offered to pay for whatever bill for the laundry was, or just to buy you another one—"

"Which I doubt you'd ever have the means to pay for it," he rudely interrupted, eyeing the other man from head to toe

—_though he certainly didn't sound foreign in the least—_

in which had to be in a disdainful and depreciative manner, " if your choice of clothes are any indication."

"Why, you—"

"I won't lose any more time with the likes of you—loser." The brunet said as he finally entered the very clean and shining glass automatic doors, feeling a ridiculous sense of satisfaction (filled along with a healthy dose of irritation as having his best and favorite suit practically ruined), making his way inside the building towards his office, where he kept another spare suit.

Thank god for _that_.

* * *

It was then less than two weeks later that he got to see the other man—again. And with coffee—yet again. But this time, the setting was different—a café—as the situation was, as well.

It was at one of the (few, actually) times that he got out of work early, and decided it would be fine to spend the unusually free time drinking a good cup of coffee—ending with him going to his favorite café—which was nicely settled, and was never over-crowded. 

And well, well—it _was_ a surprise. 

He didn't doubt to tell him so—with his "holier-than-thou" attitude of his, the superior smirk well placed. 

Really, the coincidences—the _dobe_ seemed to be the new waiter. 

"_Teme_."

"Nn. _Dobe_. Shouldn't you be treating your costumers with a little more respect?"

"_Teme_! Don't call me th—"

"I wouldn't do that—I happen to know…_personally_…the owner of this place—wouldn't want her to fire you, and much less in your very first—"

"_Third_."

"day now, would you?"

"Fine." The other grunt out, after full five seconds of just clenching his teeth and trembling fists by his side, obviously seeming like he, any other time, wouldn't mind to give the other a piece of his mind in the form of a punch or two. 

Oh… the adrenaline of danger…

He didn't even seem to notice, so wrapped was in this rather new found feeling, of how out character he was acting right then. 

"So… what would you want?_Teme_." Really, the _dobe_ didn't seem like he could hold his tongue.

"Nn." His damn smirk was still there, and if possible, even wider, the blond noticed, "Just bring me—"

"Oh, what a nice surprise, Sasuke-_kun_! Welcome back!" both males turned into the direction the woman's voice came from, pleasantly warm and welcoming—in the form of a woman, in her late twenties, pressed (and expensive) lavender suit put on, her bleach blonde hair put into a high bun, her light blue eyes filled with mirth. 

Eyeing the two of them, her burrows frowned, "Is everything alright?" she asked, thought if asking him or the blond guy, none of them were sure. 

"Didn't know you hired a new waiter. What happened to the girl that was in his place? It's unusual for you to hire males, Ino." one of the main uniqueness of the place was, in fact, that the majority of the workers there were women. The only reason he tolerated the place was that the women there had long ago learnt to keep their distances, and their flirting to themselves, too. 

"Maternity leave." She said, referring to the quiet brunet girl, which was a darling, and every customer couldn't help to like her. "And this young man here practically begged for the job—couldn't possibly say no." then, the woman that went by the name Ino hastily watched her wrist-watch, "Oh my—It's quite late! Sorry Sasuke-_kun_," (she was the only one that could get away to adding the '_kun'_ at the end of his given name, mostly because of her persistence, and the other reason also because like with Sakura, they knew each other since they were kids) "most to your disappointing," here she grinned openly, "I have a presentation to attend to." She could be referring most probably of little Mariko, first grade, her first ballet festival. Then, eyeing to the other blond of the room, she said, "I trust you to him—his usual—black coffee, extra forte, no sugar—and use the grains stashed on the back of the third drawer on the left." And with that, she made her way out the store.

And from there on, a new ritual was born.

* * *

And so, on that week forward, Sasuke made sure to leave at least one day per week early, with the purpose of teasing the blond. He later found out the dobe's name to be Naruto, Uzumaki Naruto; 23, American father, Japanese mother, orphan since 13, graduated from high-school (he could roughly be called 'average' with the grades he had) no siblings, no other family related. And asides from his not so sunny dispositions towards Sasuke, everyone in the café (co-workers and costumers alike) seemed to adore him; he was able to conquer their hearts in so little time. 

So then, he made it his 'personal' mission to just pester the boy there whenever he had the chance—and which he so easily succeeded—the pestering, I mean. 

Sasuke in reality never paid attention at really how much he was enjoying himself in those moments—and in those moments, he forgot every worry, every anger, every preoccupation and torment he had on his mind—and let himself live, just feel. 

He never really noticed those smiles, those barely smiles there, as that happened—

With the exception of one attentive pair of light blue eyes. 

* * *

In the moments when he spent more of his time with the blond dobe, the gape between him and Sakura just seemed to grow wider as the days passed by. They barely even talked to each other now (not that they talked much to begin with, anyways—Sakura had long ago stopped trying to have a conversion with him, her doing all the talking in all her enthusiasm), acknowledged each other, and none of them didn't even seem to care. 

At public, the two of them acted as they should be, but…in private…it was as if the other didn't even exist. And _this_ was becoming the normal every-day…because, for them…

…it was just a contract; a business deal. 

Nothing more.

Sasuke didn't bother himself with the situation, either. 

And Sakura wasn't putting any effort to change it, neither.

None of them bothered themselves with the fact that their so called 'relationship' was coming crashing to its end, steadily fast so. 

Because, at least for Sasuke's case, a certain blond person was seemingly filling him more and more, to the point of bursting. 

* * *

Even when he didn't love Sakura, even when he couldn't call himself happy with the life he had with her, he could honestly state that not even once, he had entertained the thought of adultery.

Until that fleeting flashing moment.

That startled him, because the one responsible for that thought…

"…_eme_?"

The one responsible for that thought was…

"Oi! _Teme_!"

The one responsible was…

"_Teme_, are you there?" 

The one responsible for it was…currently in front of him.

Realization slapped him in the face, hard, and with no mercy.

Breath almost held, the brunet man grabbed the tan hand that was still waving in front of his face, which was intending to make sure the _teme_ was still there and not in la-la land, and grabbed it hard, almost hurtful.

"Hey, _teme_, that hurts!" he heard the other complain, felt the other trying to yank his hand; Sasuke let go of it abruptly, as if burned by it. 

And so, without a word, he stood up from the table, and left the place—Naruto left behind, flabbergasting, in the table had was occupied by the _teme_ just moments ago, in the same café place he worked (though, in the moment, as a customer since today was his free day)—and Ino, frozen in her spot when she was just making her way to greet the brunet, having just arrived.

Yes, something was wrong, now she verified it.

* * *

What was that?

What the hell was that…?

What the fucking hell was that…?

He could not believe he had just—

His hands were awfully trembling on the steering wheel. 

Sasuke needed to calm himself off. He couldn't afford—He had to cut the problem off its source; he decided then to never see the blond again.

He decided…that Naruto didn't deserve it—not that, nor the risk of the ruin of his reputation, nor anything.

He ignored the part of his head (the one that was hided behind a wall of suffering and torment) that cried otherwise as he made his way 'home'.

Yes, it was truly _home_ back there.

But he had learnt that life was a constant bitch, and so having everything you wanted was quite an impossible feat. And he would definitely not ruin everything he had now, everything his family built so hard to achieve—everything that was the remaining of them—over one stupid blond _dobe_ that he met barely a month ago.

He would _not_.

…A tiny, barely no-there part of his brain asked 'what the heck are you so afraid of?'

But he chose to simply ignore it, just as he was keen to do more and more these past days. 

* * *

Yet, the encounters continued the same, as if that last episode hadn't ever occurred—a feat that Sasuke was getting very good now-a-days—and if asked, the Uchiha would vehemently deny—along with a few outraged cursing words and quite deadly glares for even daring imply that to him—that he was just pretending, that he was hiding, that he wanted so much more—

—_which_ was probably true—

But the man wouldn't ever admit it—blame it on the stupid Uchiha pride ingrained into him ever since he could think—and so many would arrive to the conclusion that was that pride was getting in the way of so many things.

—which was true.

Currently, the man was sitting on his usual seat, cell phone off—he allowed himself that tiny bit of getaway of the world on that moment, and _only_ on that moment—sipping of his coffee while indulging himself of the reading of one weekly business magazine, when he felt more than saw someone taking a seat in front of him.

—damn, he _knew_ he should've arranged the disposal of that other damned chair—

"Don't you have work to do,_dobe_?" he said, not even bothering to look up from his precious reading, because the idiot blond had taken an habit of skipping his work whenever he deem—

"I'm taking a break, right now." The voice said, a feminine one, one with a tone of mixed amusement and seriousness and maybe offense for being called a 'moron'—

Which had the immediate effect on Sasuke, who raised his barely dilated eyes in surprise at being caught off-guard (and obviously caught making a mistake, too), making eye contact with pale blue eyes.

"Ino."

"And who did you think you were talking to?" she asked, that amusement still present. 

He felt irritated to himself, because he just knew (and felt, too) that damn blush making their damn merry way across his very pale cheeks, which in turn made the blush all that more noticeable.

Damnit—he was not a teenager anymore—and he definitely wasn't a girl, neither!—and damnit, the woman dared smirk, too! (Thought, for her credit, she was trying real hard to hide it.)

"Did you want anything?" he asked the woman, after an awkward moment of Uchiha-ness. 

"Well, actually—yes, I wanted to talk to you." She said, after clearing her throat, her hands resting against each other, on the table, feeling the stylish decorated tablecloth beneath them. 

"About…?" he prompted the woman, closing his magazine and raising a fine brow, as if telling her she had his attention now—not an easy feat to achieve, in fact.

"I know it's probably none of my business," she began, her fingers barely wriggling against each other, "but…" she trailed off, not quite knowing how to phrase her inquiry.

"Just say it." He said in an even, but brisk voice that lacked patience—same old Sasuke.

"How are things going between you and Sakura?" she bluntly asked, ashamed at herself at how rushed that came out—damnit, it was just a question!

"We're…fine." He said, not elaborating. Just that—just 'fine'. The blonde woman sighed.

"Meaning, nothing changed."

The man in front of her just stared blankly at her, as if saying, 'So?'. That earned another sigh of the female one. 

—Because, now, she didn't have it in her heart envying nor disliking the pink-haired woman anymore. 

"Because, I was wondering—I noticed," oh, damnit, that _faltering_ again, "of how you're getting quite along with a certain male blond waiter here." Not to say, the _only_ male worker around there.

Another three full seconds full of silence, then, 

"It really is none of your business.", that pale and handsome face of his devoid of any emotion.

—_Damn Itachi; he was the culprit of it all—_

"I…see." She finally chose to say, knowing that any further attempts at prowling would remain futile—experience made her wise, indeed. She then stood of the table, and with a voice as soft as a whispering, she said, "Just—don't…try not to crush his heart—his is just as damaged as yours is." And with that, she left.

…She wondered if—she _hoped that_—the other had heard her, even as he acted as he pretty much didn't.

Ino didn't know the blond boy that much, but she had learnt to care for him—

But, most of all, she cared for that stubborn-as-ass Sasuke, the one she had learnt to care—

The one she fell in love with once.

She prayed for the best, really—

And for Sakura, too.

* * *

That conversation with Ino had affected Sasuke more than he let on—because if Ino said what she did, then that meant that she somehow realized something was up—that something he didn't want to admit to himself was happening, either—

—he carded nervous fingers though midnight black locks of hair—

And his life was chaotic enough as it was—and he really didn't need any other element added into it. 

"You're acting strange, today." He heard one familiar male voice say somewhere next him—ah, on his right, he noticed, as he barely tensed up; he really should start stopping spacing out. 

Sasuke chose to merely ignore him—maybe that would make him go away—

A sigh. "Really, you're acting moodier than usual."

—which obviously didn't happen. Maybe it was true that god hated him.

…because, otherwise, it would have been nice if…

"Nothing's wrong. I'm leaving—keep the change." He said, sitting up, not even bothering to spare the blond man a look as he put a very large bill on the table next to his half empty cup of coffee, his pace brisk for the trained eye. 

Naruto wondered what the heck was wrong with him.

* * *

Sasuke wondered what the heck was wrong with him.

He knew he was putting himself—and his heart—in a very problematic, and compromising situation—he was not a fool as not to know that what he felt toward that idiotic tanned blond man was lust.

—_really, to feel that now that he—_

And with a guy, no less. 

He knew that, such things as lust were controllable things—he could have those urges, but he had the choice of not acting upon them. And of course he wouldn't act upon them—that was out of the question, he concluded, as he inserted the key to his penthouse—_he and Sakura's_ penthouse—going inside. 

"Oh, already here—you're early, tonight." The pinkette woman greeted—

—_since when had she stopped saying the 'Welcome home' part?—_

her voice devoid of any anger—devoid of any emotion, 

—_has she learnt that from him?—_

actually, as she simply sat up from the dinning table, making her way towards the sink (the remains of dinner, as it appeared to be). She stood there, not saying anything, before making her way towards her room. Just as she was about to enter, her back to him, she said, "Dinner is on the microwave," and then she entered the room, closing the door softly behind her.

He never got to hear her words whispered by the sink,

_"Hadn't I tried hard enough—hadn't I loved you enough?"_

_"Wasn't I good enough?"_

* * *

Next day—evening, actually—he found himself avoiding the _dobe_. Even when in that moment he actually was free from any work-related obligations—the other evenings he managed to really force himself to finish work early (even when he wasn't a person known to waste his time—he took his job very seriously) and now really he had nothing else to occupy himself with in what was left of the day.

If he wanted to keep this—whatever it was—into a more or less sane and manageable condition, he knew he _had_ to stop seeing the blond.

He thought it would be a fair easy task—but _no_, life_loved_ to prove him wrong. 

He tried going home, and revise some papers that had thought were strange in its contents—people foolishly thought they could trick him—but he couldn't put his mind into it.

He couldn't concentrate.

He then tried to make himself a much needed cup of coffee—which he promptly threw down the sink afterwards, the taste not really feeling the same—coming not even close to satisfying.

Then (the former seeming a failure), he tried to go to bed early—something he found really disturbing, since all he seemed able to do was turn and toss and turn in his (now lonely big) bed (that hadn't happened before)—the bluest of eyes haunting his mind.

In the end, he ended up having his sleeping pills (which certainly did the deal); the pills he had seemingly stopped needing them roughly a month ago—coincidentally since the escapades at the café started. 

He forgot he actually didn't believe in coincidences.

* * *

Next morning the last Uchiha heir (since Sakura wasn't getting pregnant any moment soon—and Sasuke wasn't complaining, either) found himself waking up late, irritated that his _darling_ wife Sakura hadn't dignified herself with waking him up, seeing he was going to be late—

—_and she seemed no-where to be found, either—_

Which now was going to be the case, as he hastily put on his tie, arranging it as he briskly looked his place, walking briskly towards the building's parking place, where his black Mercedes was parked—

—_the only foreign car he actually liked—_

and he felt irritated, really, because even when he really didn't _need_ to be on the place on time as it was due to his employees, since he was the CEO—he _liked_ to put on example, by always arriving on time—_earlier_, even—

Which, today, of course, wasn't going to happen. 

God_damnit_—that was why he hated women, he thought as he friskily put the key on the ignition, and out of the parking lot.

He really hated them, that was for sure. 

* * *

"You're late, boss—how unusual of you." a bored voice droned behind him as he just about to open his office's door, his pale hand already on the handle. 

"Nn. Shikamaru." Sasuke simply said, not even sparing the other a look as he entered, and sat on his desk, a pale hand covering the weary expression on his face—and it was just early morning; the beginning of the day.

A man with brown locks tied in a somewhat shaggy ponytail and neat dark blue suit stood on front of him, folders on his hand—Shikamaru.

Somehow, the hair and the neatness of his attire didn't combine that much in what was a conventional way, but combined with the man anyway—and he did have the professional look, even with that lazy-look-attitude of his.

That was Sasuke still had him—and he was a hell of a good lawyer too—always able to find those damn loops his rivals intended Sasuke to fall into. 

"I know it's troublesome—but these'd just arrived." The man by that went by the name of Shikamaru said; putting the folders he had on his hands and onto the brunet's desk. By doing so, he really saw how weary his superior looked—and really, it was just too troublesome—and said nothing.

Whatever happened, it was his boss' business, and as long as it didn't affect their work, it shouldn't affect him.

The man made his leave, none of them saying really nothing as he did so, if the barely 'Nn' the black-haired man said could be qualified to an actual word.

But it really was so very troublesome—he thought that was due to happen some day or another, judging his 'love' life—

Truthfully, so very troublesome. 

* * *

It would be an understatement saying that Sasuke's concentration (and as end result, his work), was affected. He felt truly irritated at himself for having even allowed himself to become into this mess, and was irritated at (and blamed, too) the hell of his bitch 'wife', at the blond idiot that he_knew_ shouldn't be affecting him at all, and at the hell of his secretary for being there, and at the account woman that had just to come for him for a miscalculation that was not really his fault but that he might be responsible for either way, the guy in the Human Department, his employee—

Everyone, in short. 

But what really did it was the pitiful, concerned looks he received from all his staff when they thought he didn't see them—or the acquiescently tones he received from them—

And it shouldn't be this way, and it was all that damned blond's fault—

And his, too.

Now he tasted the real meaning of his words—

Love turned you into a weak fool.

* * *

After Sasuke's self-confession of his amorous state—he felt even more irritated at himself, instead of the feeling of relief, or the sort. 

It was remembered latter by his staff that, in those dark (and quite fearful) days, they had to tip-toe around the Uchiha, and even with that done some of them hadn't quite survived the Uchiha's wrath—or had, at least, acquired quite a severe trauma, one so severe that, even years later, they had to continue with their therapy sessions.

And he _still_ (quite obstinately and stubbornly) didn't consider the thought of adultery _and_-slash-or divorce

—though the divorce-thingy addition was quite new—

He wouldn't do it. It was quite a hassle as it was now.

And that was his resolve as he continued drinking—_and_ drinking—and he found that this new hobby of drinking after work to be quite nice—why hadn't done this earlier, before? 

—out of the corner of his eyes he felt the luring (hungry, for him—he thought with a shudder) stares of the many women sitting on the bar—and some others of men, too.

Oh joy—everyone wanted him.

He bitterly donned himself his glass of whisky—really, the foreign alcohol beverages weren't his favorite—but he didn't complain as it did its job beautifully—getting himself drunk (or drunk_er_), that is.

Oh nice, nice alcohol—it numbed his senses wonderfully, and what was more important, prevented him the quite irritating act of _thinking_.

Not like him—but as said before—he could blame it on the alcohol.

As he was contemplating his –what, fourth? fifth?—glass, he felt (what the other thought it was) a luring and seductive caress of a well manicured hand, its manicured finger-nails going up and down his arm, caressing the fabric of his (not so quite elegantly buttoned, now) expensive suit.

He looked at his left—the source of the touch—to be face to face to a woman that others had to consider pretty—long eyelashes covered in black thick mascara, fluttering in a coy way, lips glistening with red lipstick. He internally recoiled—the woman stank with expensive perfume, though her hair was pretty—it was blond, he noticed.

Her eyes were not blue, though—they were gray, 

—_foreign woman?—_

although if you shut your eyes somewhat, and looked at it in a different angle, he could pretend they were blue—

Light blue, at most, he realized, somewhat disappointed. 

The woman was persistent, nevertheless—he had to give her that—because the woman was huskily whispering at his ear at how would he like for them to go somewhere else more…private. 

Even in his state of mind—his drunk as ass state of mind—he was contemplating the cons and the odds of such a deal (yes, everything to him had the tendency to be a deal), as he gazed at his (sixth? seventh?) glass—

—_and really, how hadn't he passed out yet?—_

And out of the corner of his eyes he thought he saw blue, blue eyes looking angrily at him, and they were so familiar, and yet so unknown, so new as that emotion flashed in those beautiful eyes—

But it had to be his imagination, because Naruto couldn't possibly be there; he had no business doing there—

And just as he was about to give the woman his answer (though, later, he honestly couldn't recall what _was_ that he was going to answer her) he felt someone grab the upper arm of his shoulders forcefully up, forcing him out of the stool. That suddenness made him (embarrassedly) to have his knees buckling, swiftly making the brunet's vision have a curious knack of seeing things double—

—_just how much did he drink?—_

a pair of strong arms embracing him against the person's chest—a male, obviously—steadying him against the fall.

The first impulse he had was to break off the embrace; it was embarrassing enough as it was. However it ended just as a failed attempt as the stranger's grip got stronger, and in his current state he found he didn't have the strength to pull away, either way. 

In mild curiosity and mostly irritation, the Uchiha raised his gaze to see who the hell had him that way, only to see a pair of deep azure blue eyes, locked angrily not only towards the woman, but towards him, as well.

"Naruto…? What…?" it was rare for the last Uchiha to be left speechless like that, but he blamed it on the alcohol. Definitely the alcohol. 

"Excuse me," the blond started, not even acknowledging him, "he doesn't feel quite well right now. We'll be leaving now. Sorry for the inconveniences." His tone was stiff, and not at all apologetic. 

And true to his words, the young blond man gave a turn of a hundred-eighty degrees, forcing the Uchiha on toes (though, in his condition, Sasuke didn't exactly have the ability to walk on his own without tumbling). He couldn't even see the woman's disappointed and indignant face at being quite rejected like that. 

Just as they made it out of the place—some rather expensive hotel's bar—Naruto hissed into his ear, "Don't you have a _wife_?"

Sasuke shrugged, "Yes, I do."

The grip on his shoulder got even stronger, "And don't you _care_?"

The brunet frowned at that, distractedly thinking of how bad his reputation and his less-than-pleasantly state he had with Sakura would go for the worse if she ever found out. "Not really." He said instead, because really, it wasn't like he _cared_ for her or anything. 

"You _don't_…?" the blond of the two took a deep breath, in what seemed an attempt to calm himself, probably trying to remind himself that the bastard was_drunk_, and it was probably the alcohol speaking—he couldn't possibly be serious about what he said. 

"I'm taking you home." Naruto said, finally, taking on a cab. There, he told the man Sasuke's address. The brunet raised a fine dark brow at him—the bastard still had the ability to pull that out even in his drunk-as-ass state—in inquiry. Naruto blushed.

"I… upon reaching the place and seeing you where as wasted as you could get, I called on Ino, don't knowing who else to call. She kinda told to me to take care of you, giving me your address and all." The blond man explained. 

It took a few extra minutes for the Uchiha to register it (but it was still faster than most people in his state, considering), and so then, he asked, opening his eyes from the sleepiness he felt, "What were you doing there, in the first place? Following me, or something?" The blond surprisingly blushed all the more, averting his eyes. The brunet narrowed his dark eyes. 

"You _did_?" he didn't know whether to feel offended at the prospect of being followed, or happy at the prospect that Naruto—

"Well, I…that wasn't the case—I…" the blond stopped at his useless attempt at excusing himself. Taking a deep breath, he started again, "I was just coming back from my night classes—" Sasuke raised his eyes, causing the blond to raise a black and orange backpack the former hadn't noticed until now, "yeah, I do study; don't think I was planning on being a waiter for the rest of my life—anyways, I was on my way home when I noticed your car being parked—" now Sasuke remembered he actually had a car, "—couldn't possibly have mistaken it—there're no so many as yours. 

"Anyways, I actually thought it suspicious you being there, and so I…kinda entered, just to make sure you were all right," the blond rushed the last part, averting his eyes in a self-conscious kind of way, "and when I saw you plastered like that, I just thought it was high time for me to rescue you." He finished, rushing the end, skipping some parts as to the reason of his angry expression then, if Sasuke hadn't imagined it, that was. 

"Which leads me to the former question, now. Don't you have a wife? Won't she feel worried with you gone, like that? And what prompted you to get your ass wasted, in the first place?" 

There were dozen of answers swirling through the Uchiha's mind, yet he only said, "Nothing really."

Just when the blond seemed he was going to ask more of that answer that didn't exactly answer anything, the cab thankfully stopped at the front of Sasuke's penthouse's building. 

Sasuke got out of the cab, and with a certain amount of concentration was able to stand without losing his balance. Breathing deeply, letting the cool night air to fill his lungs and clear his head somewhat, he made it to pay the cab driver, when Naruto beat him to that. Sasuke just barely was able to maintain his balance—all that was keeping him from falling was his stubborn and well-ingrained Uchiha pride. 

"C'mon, let me help you." The other said, as he made it to the Uchiha and slipped an arm over the brunet's shoulders. Sasuke realized how warm that touch felt even through the layers of fabric between them. Sasuke thought it was useless to try and deny the well-needed help, since he barely could stand on his on, and even less walk—he tried to just enjoy the moment, not matter how short-lived it might be. He doubted there would be another chance like that. 

Upon reaching the elevators, Sasuke pressed the designated floor to his place after sliding his card over the slot; he then let himself sag against the blond, feeling his energy draining.

He felt rather sleepy, and didn't even want to think about the massive hang-over he was sure to have tomorrow. 

He vaguely noticed the other fidgeting—of discomfort or some other thing, he wasn't sure. 

The elevator's doors opened with a clink after some minutes of silence, and brunet made it to stand more upright, trying to make it to his apartment on his own, now. Damn his pride. Thankfully, the _dobe_ was there to help him in no time at all.

"Damnit, _teme_, I said I would help you." Naruto hissed in his ear, sending something like an electric wave down his spine. 

He was able to insert the key and open the place on his own, thankfully—thought his hand that had the key was trembling. 

Just when both he and Naruto entered, the former probably to help the other on the couch or somewhere like that Sasuke assumed, the brunet snapped. He just disregarded everything and anything else as he forcefully managed to pull the other against the door—

—he was mildly surprised at himself at the sudden burst of strength to manage such a feat—

and pressed his lips against those of Naruto's, forgetting everything else, every warning bells ringing through his head, every rationalizing thought, and instead only focused on his innermost desires, those that he had suppressed for so long—

—_and oh it felt so fucking good—_

and he felt so dazed as he nibbled on the blond's lower lip teasingly, asking the granting of permission, running his tongue over it. Naruto didn't seem to be quite responsive, (he never got to see those bluest of eyes in an expression of pure shock as he'd just assaulted him) but he could be so damn persistently stubborn, as well—and since the blond wasn't particularly resisting him, either, he succeeded in entering that hot mouth, tasting heaven as he explored every crevice of the _dobe_'s wonderful mouth and feeling the other's tongue against his own. 

And although he wanted to get lost in that delicious and pleasant sensation forever, Naruto had other—not so delicious nor pleasant—ideas. 

He forcefully pushed the other away, a set of blue eyes searching desperately the other, trying to read_what the fuck was he thinking_.

"Sasuke—what are you _doing_?" he asked, his breathing heaving heavily by the intensity of the kiss, backing more into the door, trying to buy as much distance as possible. 

"What I've wanted to do for a long time now—ever since that day when you ruined my suit." He answered bluntly, his eyes boring into the other's, the intensity and the words making Naruto blush, because _damn_, he couldn't see any lies in there—and he could practically get_burnt_ inside those eyes.

That didn't make Naruto avert his eyes, though.

"What—didn't you have _wife_—she probably is here, you know, hearing our every word." Naruto hissed, suddenly remembering that the man in front of him was fucking_married_. 

The mention of the word 'wife' had a sobering reaction, it seemed, because it was as if the brunet suddenly remembered he was _married_, and the _had_ a wife—but not sobering enough, as that sobering was hampered by the alcohol running through the Uchiha's system.

He took a step forward.

"I don't care—and I don't think she's here, anyway." He replied, burrowing his brow as how the woman didn't seem to be much around the place, lately. He made it to kiss the other again.

The blond averted his head, avoiding it. The brunet made it to kiss his neck, then, unfazed. 

A few minutes passed like this, with pale hands fumbling, and tanned hands gripping the _teme_'s rumpled suit now, slightly trembling, when the blond one said between nibbles on his neck—

—_and someway along, Naruto's hideous orange shirt's collar was opened more than what seemed possible, and it was sure there were going to be tell-tale marks tomorrow—_

gripping, tugging at the _teme_'s hairs into his fists, "Sasuke—this…" he drew in a sudden intake of breath as the _teme_ drew his tongue about his pulse point, sucking it, interrupting his speech, "this is wrong—oh god—this is wrong, and you're_married_—" he was suddenly interrupted again at a particular sharp biting of the_teme_'s teeth at his words.

When Sasuke re-emerged from his self-appointed task, he was frowning, (almost pouting so—again and again, blame it on the alcohol), and a perfect glare was accompanying it. 

"Why do you seem to insist talking about her?"

Naruto almost gaped at him, almost—though he was pretty close to actually doing it, "Why, you say—and how can I not, damnit?" there was a tone of disbelief in his voice, "how can I not, when it's true, you _do_ have a—"

"Shut it—don't say it." Naruto rolled his eyes.

"Okay, then—you're _married_." Naruto said, as if that explained everything, and which to him, it did. And Sasuke growled at that in a very un-Sasuke fashion. 

"It's that all that there's it to it? That I'm married?"

"_No_—but—"

"So? Don't you want me, too?"

"Well—" Naruto blushed then, averting his eyes.

"So? This means you want me too, don't you?" He said, bringing his face closer to that of the_dobe_.

"We'll—you'll surely regret this in the morning." Was all that the blond said, before closing the gap between their mouths, embracing the other. 

No more words of refusal were said that night. 

* * *

That had been the night before. 

As Sasuke woke up and realized the real meaning of his situation, and even with the massive hang-over that had his head pounding like the Armageddon, he couldn't seem to forget the way the other felt, the way those eyes looked at him when making love to him; as it felt heaven and beyond afterwards.

But more importantly, he couldn't forget the way those eyes looked at him—almost with adoration, filled to the core with feeling he dared not to identify—

Yes, he really, certainly was a fool.

And so, as those memories assaulted him as soon as he saw the blond man by his side, he wondered, hands carding into his midnight locks, sighing wearily,

_What he heck had he gotten himself into?_

His mind envisioned a hundred and one ways that his 'perfect' life could get (more) complicated because of this, as consequence. His 'darling' wife might have discovered them, hearing them go at it,

—_what the heck had he been thinking—_

and certainly, she wouldn't be happy about it—and that could go to press, the way he knew she could be vindictive 

—_and maybe he was just over-reacting that last part—_

and so other rival companies of his might get a hold of that less than perfect behavior, and that just might make him lose his credibility and stand in front of strong dealers' eyes, and even if that didn't happen­—

Even if that didn't happen, he certainly would have to deal with Naruto, and the profundity of whatever feeling he had toward the _dobe_ (love, most certainly), and whatever Naruto felt about him. Lust—most probably. 

It _had_ to be just lust.

Because if it wasn't just that—

He abruptly got up the bed, making his hand stop the heartfelt (and self-appointed) ministration of brushing lovingly those blond locks away from that tanned face, over those now closed gorgeous sky-blue eyes. 

He couldn't let himself fall into this

—_even if he already had—_

because he couldn't let himself—

The Uchiha hastily made his way to the bathroom, intending in a long, cold shower.

* * *

By the time he got out of his (really) long shower, he made it to his bedroom to find the _dobe_ already gone. And checking the rest of the place, he couldn't find the _dobe_ anywhere within it. 

It was as if he were never there.

He tried to dismiss the disappointed feeling he had over his chest over that notion, convincing himself that was certainly for the best—not strings attached—

A mistake better left forgotten. 

That was what he told himself, but that heavy disappointing feeling he had, mingled with something more, just couldn't disappear.

Maybe, it was Naruto that regretted it in the morning.

* * *

The times after their little 'escapade', to say that, to say that the Uchiha was in what people called a 'foul mood' was an utter understatement. If last time there were scarcely people within Sasuke's staff that had barely survived his not so good 'mood' so to say, now—no-one was spared. Nothing was forgiven, and everything was a motive for his unmerciful onslaught.

There were ones among the victims that vowed that there were hell to pay and blood to shed if there was someone that was the cause of all this—the culprit. 

Now—there were actually few people that could claim to be close to the Uchiha, and it could be said that they had the power to…meddle into things and actually _do_ something—but some of them chose to _not_ do so claiming it to be just 'too troublesome'.

There were others who just may be having too much fun just to meddle—namely one person who just chose to snicker behind his suspicious orange book, after looking at the brunet with an all-knowing look and patting the other on the shoulder—the only one who could get away with it and live.

There were also others that would happily lend a hand to those friends that 'were having trouble in their blooming (not so blooming now) of their youth', had they noticed that there was something wrong, actually.

Others claimed that it was none of his business (though everyone knew that was actually not how he felt, but that he would die rather than to admit that he was actually worried) and it was to the Uchiha to handle whatever problem he had.

Oh—and let us not forget the ones that would very much like to try their new shiny-blade-ninja-thingy on the one culprit for the disturbance of their peace and tranquility—because there _was_ a culprit—her woman intuition told her; all this with a wicked (and weird, one would say) gleam of excitement in her eyes.

And all of them managed, one way or another, without properly doing anything, to annoy their 'boss' monumentally, with the backfiring result of pissing him more off. And it was in those days when the Uchiha received the help (that he didn't acknowledged he needed) from the most unexpected person.

* * *

"Sakura." Sasuke said blandly as he hung his suit's jacket near the door, upon seeing bags upon bags near the woman's feet where she sat on the expansive living room.

"Sasuke." The pinkette woman said, a tiny little smile (with a tint of bittersweet-ness and sadness) in her features—the first smile Sasuke had seen in a long time now, he noticed—directed at him. 

"Sasuke," she repeated, motioning with her hand for him to sit. He did so on the sofa in front of her, all this without uttering a single word, or any hint of emotion there.

They merely stared at each other for a while before any of them said anything.

"Sasuke," the woman started once more, "we've been…through a lot…together. And for a while back there, I actually thought that…we were meant to be." At this, her smile widened a little at what it seemed to be a long­-lost notion as she closed her eyes. "I believed in that, thinking that if I gave you time, you might actually, you know…care for me, back." She opened her eyes, and there was a gentle look in her emerald eyes, marred with resignation. 

He kept saying nothing at her, but this didn't seem to upset her, as if actually expect him to.

"We were…young back then. We thought we could do anything we wanted—me, that I could gain your heart—and you, that you could live without giving yours to anyone. We were both wrong, and we both failed, in the end."

The brunet man dilated his charcoal eyes minutely at the implications of her words—and she, having known him for _years_, noticed that. 

"Sasuke," she said again, placing her pale and manicured hands upon the Uchiha, lightly squeezing it, "I know. And I don't really blame you—we were never really a couple, acting like complete strangers. And he seemed quite tasty, too." She said, as an after-thought, chuckling.

No-one could have not noticed the glare directed at the woman in front of him. 

"Don't give me that look. Anyway, before you start on your killing rampage—" the glare intensified, "let me explain myself. Like I said, I don't blame you, nor am I mad at you. Because I, too, am at fault. That night—I arrived quite late from my…escapade," Sasuke actually raised one of his eyebrows at that, "and when I heard what was going on—I'll be honest with you—I was thinking of a couple of ways of how to mangle and kill (without any order, precisely) both of you. 

"When that anger ebbed away…I thought that I had to have seen it coming. You just—needed someone that could teach you what falling in love was like, how marvelous it was—even if I failed at that time. And now that I think about it, I don't think I was really in love with you, at that time. It was simply a crush that I just refused to let go." She sighed, reclining on the love-seat she was sitting on, closing her eyes once again. 

"It took me awhile…to actually come to terms with that—today, to be more precise." Her breath came a little more ragged at this, her voice a little less steady. "I cried a lot over you, and I swore I wouldn't do that again." She said finally, opening her eyes, her voice back to her steady calmness. 

It was amazing how she could carry on the one-side conversation without actually feeling bad about it, nor minding it. 

"Anyways—the past is the past now. Not hard feelings." The woman that went by the name of Sakura said, smiling brilliantly now. Sasuke absentmindedly wondered if there was another reason for that smile—or another person, to be more precise. 

Not that he could really blame her for that. 

She motioned in a standing motion, then.

"You know, Sasuke," she started as she made to grab her things, "I know that you have it really difficult to open yourself to other people, but—you need to know that you're not alone, and that it's okay for you to trust and depend on other people, once in a while—and that's a strength, too; not a weakness." She then raised her eyes, hands full of her bags (Sasuke resisted the urge to sweat-drop at just how many bags she managed to take—just like a cartoon character), disposing for the door now.

"Sakura…" he began talking for the first time since their 'conversation' began. "Do you need me to…?" he began to make his way toward—what was now? His ex?—seizing one of the falling bags from her hold.

"Just to the elevators—from there, I'll be fine." She said, almost sticking her tongue as was keen to when she was younger, smiling apologetically. 

"Alright." Was the only thing he said—the 'thanks' unsaid, but understood. 

He also never heard the softly whispered 'goodbye, Sasuke' from Sakura's lips. 

* * *

Next day, Sasuke was just on his way to work when he received a frantically call from an equally frantically Ino, "Sasuke? You didn't do anything to Naruto now, did you?"

Sasuke squashed that guilt that arose at that and threw it away as far away as possible, and lied shamelessly, "No—I haven't seen him for days, actually," he said as he pulled his car to a stop. "Why?" he added, his curiosity getting the best of him—and worry, as well. 

"Well, after that night he called me telling me of your state of drunkenness," Sasuke mentally glared at the blonde at that, "he hadn't showed for work—and he hadn't come yet, and that was two weeks ago!" she bellowed at the phone, and he had to actually move his cell-phone from his ear, for fear of losing his hearing. 

He glared openly at the blond woman, now.

"He didn't leave you a message, or something?" he asked, skipping the question of how that was any of his business in the first place, as he was mildly concerned now. 

"Yes—only that he would be away for a _few_ days, and that something suddenly aroused." The blonde explained –yelled—making sure to emphasize the word. 

"Is that so? Then why are you making such a fuzz right now—"

"Because he texted me this morning, saying that he was booking a plane ticked to America!"

"…What…?" he said, frozen. And, if possible, he looked even paler. 

"Now you're listening to me? Now, Sasuke, you—" but Sasuke didn't hear any more—_couldn't_ hear any more—feeling numb all over as he dropped his phone.

_"…you need to know that you're not alone, and that it's okay for you to trust and depend on other people…"_

_"…that's __a strength, too; not a weakness…"_

_"…texted me this morning, saying that he was booking a plane ticked to America…"_

Feeling determination filling him, and annoyance at the _dobe_ for such a drastic measure, he drove his car into reverse (causing several cars to horn at him for that, almost causing an accident), intent on making the _dobe_ understand something.

…And maybe himself, as well.

* * *

When Sasuke arrived at the Narita International Airport—

—_finally—_

he began to frenetically search for the familiar sight of some mop of blond hair, praying to whatever gods that were out there that the _dobe_ hadn't departed already—

—in his stunned state back there when Ino called, he hadn't thought of asking the woman just at what time the blond _dobe_ were to depart—

and just when hope was leaving him, he saw it—a mope of spiky, blond hair.

He started to make his way closer to him.

He didn't even gave the other time of react as he wrapped his arms over (_his_, damnit) precious _dobe_, intent of making the other understand, intent of never letting go—

"Wha? Sasuke? What are you…?"

"I don't care if you regretted that night—I won't let you go, damnit!" he squeezed harder. 

The blond blushed prettily.

"But what are you talking about…? And for the record, _**teme**_, I didn't regret it—_you_ did!" he yelled, breaking out of the embrace, facing the other.

"_I_ regretted—I wasn't the one that left in the morning, with not even a word!" he didn't seem to hear the scene they were causing, the people pausing in their steps to try to hear whatever that was happening.

"That was because you didn't seem keen on seeing my face!"

"And how the heck did you arrive to that stupid conclusion, pry tell me?"

"At the way you tensed when you realized who you were with! And then you just bolted out of the bed—it didn't take a genius to know what was going on!" 

Sasuke narrowed his eyes.

"You were awake then?"

Naruto blushed, again.

"Well—I hadn't really slept—I wanted to see your sleeping face, just in case that you…" he couldn't continue, blushing even harder, averting his face. 

"…That I regretted it?" the brunet finished it. 

Silence answered him, separating them. Sasuke sighed, carding (frustrated, nervous) fingers through his midnight locks. He felt guilty, because for a moment back then, he _had_ felt some sort of regret.

But not anymore. 

He took a step forward, closing the gap, placing both pale hands on the _dobe_'s upper arms, gripping at them, and said, "I don't regret it—I won't regret it—and I take it you didn't regret it, either?" he asked, not caring just how hopeful he sounded. 

The blond younger man just nodded his head, suddenly feeling incredibly shy.

"So, then," Sasuke continued, gripping harder almost unconsciously, "Don't go." He said, earnestly, looking his dark eyes to those of Naruto's.

"Go… where?"

_Uh?_

"Weren't you going to America?" Sasuke asked, stupidly.

"Eh…no? Who told you that?" the _dobe_ said, cocking his head to the side.

"But Ino called me and said…" he trailed off, blushing, coming to full realization that he had actually fallen—he had forgotten she had a tendency to manipulate people to get her ways. 

"Uh…but I texted her and said that I was going to text a plane ticked to America, but not for me, but for Tsunade_-baa-chan_."

_That Ino—she was definitely going to pay—_

The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped him from his musings of how he was going to get his revenge of the woman. He whipped his head to his left, seeing a woman that had to be at least in her fifties, light-brown hair fashioned in two tresses at the side of her face. She cleared her throat once more.

He failed to see the way of how Naruto rolled his eyes at that. 

"Sasuke, this is Tsunade_-baa-chan_," the woman that went by the name of Tsunade glared at the blond at being called that, "Tsunade_-baa-chan_, this is Uchiha Sasuke."

"So…you're the Uchiha brat." She said, after eyeing the brunet critically from head to toe, to settle to his face again.

"Excuse me?" he said, not liking the word 'brat'—and much less coming from someone he had just met. 

"You hurt my boy, and there'll be blood to pay, Uchiha or not." She said, stepping closer, jabbing (quite rudely) a manicured red pointer finger to his chest. 

Then, before he could respond, a woman's voice on the intercom announced that all passengers destined to America to make their way to their destined platform.

"Well, that's my call." Tsunade said, taking the bags that were next to her feet (Sasuke noted then) as the woman repeated yet again to the passengers destined to America to please make their way to their destined platform as a background noise. 

"Take care, _baa-chan_!" Naruto said (much like a kid, in Sasuke's opinion), throwing his arms enthusiastically around the woman, with affection, making the (older) woman drops her things to the floor. 

"Yes, yes, I will." She said, exasperated, patting the blond in the back, but Sasuke noted how her eyes softened.

"You have too, _baa-chan_—you know, with your age and all." not two seconds after that, Tsunade hit Naruto's head with quite strength, and the other was left whimpering about his poor abused head.

"You need to learn to shut your mouth, _gaki_!" then, in a sudden move, the woman embraced the other, and said, "If he hurts you any way, you know he won't get away with it."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, _baa-chan_."

"_Gaki_." The woman said, affectionately, before drawing back, and taking yet again her things, and making her way. She never looked back as she waved at them. 

"So…" Naruto began after long minutes filled with silence, "you actually thought that I was gonna go back to the States," Sasuke blushed, "and came here to stop me?" and if possible, the brunet blushed harder, damning his quite fair skin completion that made the blush all the more noticeable. 

"Am I right?" the blond prompted, as he had yet to be given a response. "_Teme_?"

"Yes, damnit!" he swore that killing Ino was the innocent thing he would do to her…

"Hmph. _Teme_." The other said, smiling a little. Sasuke expected a more…exuberant…reaction out of him. "Y'know… that night… when I said I didn't regret it… that wasn't entirely true."

Sasuke felt all his blood run then at the confession.

—_then, Naruto _did_ regret it after all—_

Naruto continued hurriedly, sensing the brunet's sudden change of mood, "Don't get me wrong—the only thing I regretted was that…you are…well…Sasuke, I still like you—as you might know that already—but you are married, and I'm possessive, and I don't really like sharing you, and I don't never know if you like me or—"

The azure-blue eyed young man was interrupted from his rambling speech by Sasuke's sudden but heartfelt embrace, "_Usuratonkachi_," he began, but for once, his feelings leaked from every word he was saying, "I wouldn't make love to you if I like hadn't had some sort of affection towards you, now would I?" it seemed like today was blushing day, as Naruto's (yet once again) face turned quite crimson at the _teme_'s choice of words—'making love'.

"And secondly," the brunet continued, "you don't have to share me—she…left me, last night." It was weird, but those words didn't cause the grief one normally would feel, but rather, he felt…relieved.

_Free_.

Maybe, he already was…

"She left you…?"

"No, rather…she freed me—no, that is wrong." Sasuke drew back, and looked eyes with the blond; those pure, deepest azure blue eyes, "She let go of me… but _you_, Naruto, you—freed me."

That smiling face, along with those smiling gorgeous blue eyes that he would never tire of watching, was his reward, and more. Much more.

"I love you, dobe."

"And I do too, teme."

* * *

**終わり**

**. : Fin : . **

* * *

**Vocabulary**

-chan: ending that reveals a treatment extremely intimate, affectionate and even childish, reserved mostly to cute girls, kids, or to make nick-names. 

-kun: respectful treatment, equivalent to the '-san', though, proper for boys. It can indicate hierarchy, when a man of authority uses talking to a subordinate woman.

Dobe: Dead-last

Teme: 2nd person singular, with degrading meaning. The closest translation would be 'bastard'.

Usuratonkachi: loud dead-last—ultimately dead-last-loser

-baa-chan: something along the lines of 'granny'

Gaki: brat 

* * *

**A.N.**: If ya wanna kill me for the ending, you're free to do so, cuz I didn't like it either! . whines . Damnit… I so liked this ficcie, and then I had to go and end it like this… T-T

Well…any comments, doubts, critics (constructive, please)—you're free to do so.

So then… ja na.

Till next time. . goes to bury herself .

--Tsuyu--

**A.N.2**: Nya…Hope this was better… shoulda done this BEFORE posting it… but oh well… hope it's better now. XP


End file.
